


Doing it for her(self)

by dicie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Breast Growth, F/F, Gender Issues, Science-fiction gender transition, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27874774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicie/pseuds/dicie
Summary: Taylor is just doing it for his girlfriend. It's a treat, so she can have fun with some breasts. Just a guy keeping things real, changing it up, taking initiative.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Doing it for her(self)

Taylor cups one of Lucy's breasts, and absently rolls the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She gives a little squirm, the kind that means she doesn't mind him continuing, but he shouldn't expect her to get off pinterest.

"Do you ever miss playing with these?" he asks her, lifting the weight of her breast.

"I play with them plenty," she replies, eyes not lifting from the screen.

He laughs, nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck before he speaks. "I mean playing with someone else's. We could get someone in — have a threesome." He wiggles his eyebrows, in something like a salacious gesture.

Seconds pass and he continues to massage her breast, curled around her on the bed. He's half hard, but she's said plenty of times that she doesn't mind his dick pressing against her, just as long as he doesn't expect her to do something about it every time. He'd figured she wasn't going to bother with a reply at the point she speaks up.

"Not interested. If I was going to touch someone's boobs they'd have to be yours, and you don't have them, so," she gives a shrug, "this is fine."

That had been a month and a half ago, and Taylor was starting to feel less than sure in his choices.

He'd entered the store without knowing exactly what he wanted. It'd been your average sex store. Innies on one side, outies on the other, anything that works for both in the middle and the tricky stuff behind the counter. He'd approached the counter (he'd had that part worked out, at least) and swallowed at the sight of the clerk. 

He'd blurted out "Can I get a rack like yours?" eyes fixed on the clerk's frankly _huge_ breasts. He hopes they took it as a compliment. 

They had smiled, at least, and had a chuckle in their voice making their Adam's apple bob as they replied. "Sure thing, sweetie. And you'll be the one who's using it?"

"Yeah, I'm doing it for my girlfriend she's bisexual and—" 

The clerk had waved a hand and he'd shut up. They had run their finger across the rows of pills and liquids in tinted bottles. "Don't need to hear the whole story, love, just need to know for the dosing. Have you ever had breasts before?"

"Huh, no?" He'd sounded unsure, but the clerk hadn't paused.

"Are you wanting them long or short term?" they'd asked. "Anything for downstairs?"

He'd stumbled through the rest of the questions and left with a discrete bag and a pile of instructions including the number of the shop _"So I or one of the other nurses can help you if you think of more questions later, hun."_

Just as he'd been tucking his card back into his wallet he'd asked. "Do you like them?" he'd cleared his throat. "Yours, I mean."

They'd smiled. "Best thing I've ever done, darling."

He'd been given a few options. Fast ramp up (" _can be painful, wouldn't recommend it, sweetheart,"_ ) perfect cleavage, a natural look, nipple size and sensitivity. He'd gone with whatever, overwhelmed by the choices, but on day two of their growth, he's wondering whether he should have gone for one of the faster options. He'd fucked Lucy in the morning, and she hadn't noticed the swell of his chest though he can feel the change in his every motion.

He arrives home in the evening, calls out to her, "Hey, I got the food." He'd gone out figuring his routine doesn't need to change when his girlfriend hasn't even noticed. Besides, it's not anyone's business if he decides he wants tits for a couple of months. His dick twitches at the stray thought. He _could_ keep them that long, he realizes. _Months_ with their soft curves. He'd picked the six-month pack, because it was practically the same price as the four-week one, and he figured he'd stop sooner. Just maybe bring them out again on special occasions - times when Lucy wanted a bit of fun.

He's still caught up in his thoughts as he lays out the food for dinner, and doesn't notice Lucy staring at him until he's setting spring rolls onto her plate.

"What did you _do_?" she asks, incredulous, staring at his chest.

His heart plummets. His thoughts of seconds ago vanishing like smoke. "I just—" he begins, then cuts himself off. "With the conversation we had the other day—" he falters again. "You said they'd have to be mine," he finishes, all too aware that his seemingly flawless plan of changing his body to give her a treat might have been a dreadful idea from the start.

She purses her lips. "You didn't have to do this," she says. She's glaring at them now. Like she can undo his bad choices with the force of her disapproval alone. "Can you," she's got the tense note in her voice that she gets when he's _really_ put his foot in it, "take off your shirt, please."

"It seemed fun," he says, through the fabric of his T-shirt as he pulls it over his head. "Like a surprise," he says, his gift out in the open.

He feels exposed and awkward. Too much a man for the delicate peaks. Shoulders too wide, hips too narrow (cock too _there_ ) and wishes he'd picked up more of the options offered by the store, so Lucy wouldn't be looking at him like he's brought her a dead bird, so she could see that he can make this work.

"It _is_ a surprise," she says, dark humour coating each word.

His nipples have shrunk, and grown hard without his shirt to cover them. He's pretty sure they've reached the tipping point where his breasts aren't mistakable as oddly distributed fat, or muscles relaxing out of shape. He hadn't wanted to buy a bra before they reached their full size, and now he's wondering if he shouldn't wait longer, until he's explored more of the options available. He's jolted out of the beginning of a daydream where Lucy was pressing fingers into an opening he doesn't currently have, by her cupping one of his breasts and softly squeezing. 

They'd been feeling so large, but even her small hand encompasses it completely. "They're still growing," he says, defensive, to his own embarrassment.

"I see," she replies, and drops her hand to her side. "Why didn't you ask me?"

"I thought you'd say no." His words are too blunt, but at least they're honest. He's not sure that he'd realised that was the reason behind his secrecy himself until he'd said it allowed. "It's not a big deal. And I can stop, if you really hate it."

Her look sees right through him. "Do you want to stop?"

"Not really." There's a lump lodged in his throat.

She looks pained. "The food is getting cold."

He agrees, pulls his shirt back on, and they change the topic to something else.

For three days after she noticed, Lucy doesn't raise the issue of his breasts. They go about their lives as usual. They're both off work for the holidays, but Taylor doesn't sequester himself (and his breasts) away. He likes them. And no one is going to notice a bulkier chest under a sweatshirt, he tells himself as updated reasoning as to what will let them go unnoticed. Mostly he thinks strangers just don't care that much.

As Taylor dishes up the meal he's made them for lunch, Lucy breaks the taboo she's been holding herself to. "They're cute," she says, her cheek cupped in one hand as she regards them. They're bigger than hers now, and he feels like they fit better on his frame than the pinpricks they were before. Though he's been dreaming of inhabiting a smaller form, with them retaining their weight. He's pretty sure he wants a cunt.

He beams at her words, and empties his hands of the plates, placing her meal in front of her, and setting his own in front of his own seat. He cups his breasts under his shirt. It's a work shirt, but he had to leave the top buttons undone to accommodate the change, allowing for an entirely satisfactory display of cleavage. They sag enough that his nipples tend down when relaxed. "Right?" he says, pushing them up and together, making their size look even more impressive, and they still have days of growth left. "I sort of love them," he admits, as he shifts his grip so that his nipples sit between different fingers and he can regard them better. He'd meant to say the words confidently, but a tremor creeps in under his words.

She begins to eat, and he follows suit, though he keeps getting distracted by smiling at his own cleavage. He feels like a kid, just hitting puberty and discovering the wonders of breasts for the first time. Except this is better, he thinks. Because they're his.

"You could have told me you wanted them for you, too," Lucy chides, noticing him checking his cleavage for the hundredth time. "I thought you'd just done it for me."

He winces. "I didn't know I wanted it," he says, voice barely above a whisper. And then, so faintly he's not sure if he actually said the words, "I think I want more."

He doesn't know when it happened, but he'd started crying, and a tear hits his chest, slips between his breasts. A hysterical sob hiccups from his lips. Lucy's fork clatters to her plate and a second later she's wrapping her arms around him and his next hiccupping sobs fall into _her_ breasts. "Honey," she says, running her hand through his hair. "Oh, darling." He reaches a new well of hysteria. " _Sweetheart,_ " she says. He can feel her heart bleeding for him.

They stay together for hours. He thinks, sobs swinging in the direction of hysterical laughter, that he might have gone up half a cup size in the time they spend with her rubbing his back, and him clinging to her as if she's the only thing keeping him afloat.

"So," Lucy begins, gentle as can be, "do you think you're a woman, love?"

He shakes his head, but he could just as easily be nodding. He squeezes her tightly without raising his head from her chest. He can't answer that. He doesn't know if he can ever answer that.

"The tits are cute, love," she says to fill the space that he should fill with an answer. "What do you want next?"

_What does ~~he~~ she want next?_


End file.
